


my heart beats for contract law

by quietmoon



Series: SASO 2016 [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (i made myself emotional writing this lol can u believ e), Alternate Universe - College/University, Established Relationship, Fluff, Future Fic, Light Angst, M/M, Sort Of, actual angel matsukawa issei swoops in and saves the day, and his boyfriend's sanity, law student makki having a meltdown bc hell week, okay so hear me out, okay there's like a tiiiiiny bit.........of angst...a smidgeon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2020-07-28 14:37:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20065663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quietmoon/pseuds/quietmoon
Summary: "You had an emotional breakdown in a McDonalds drive-through.""Mmm.""And proposed to me.""Shhh.""In a McDonalds drive-through, Hiro."Takahiro huffs out a nervous laugh, keeping his eyes closed. "You love it," he repeats, nuzzling closer.





	my heart beats for contract law

**Author's Note:**

> _reposted from my [orphaned work](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7134098) with AO3's permission_

Takahiro is close to tears when Mattsun forcibly drags him out the apartment and into his car.

"I don't have time for this, for fuck's sake—!" He tries to jerk away but his boyfriend has a steady hold on his elbow, gently but forcefully — and do not make the rookie mistake of underestimating the arm strength in Matsukawa Issei, who has taken to joining Iwaizumi in his insane workouts for almost a full year now — pushing Takahiro out the door of their apartment building. "Mattsun, I want to go back in, stop fucking around, I don't have time for this, come on, I _can't_—"

"You can and you will," Mattsun cuts him off, unusually stern. "You're getting no work done like this, Makki. Be rational. "

Takahiro runs a hand — shaking, God, he's _shaking_, this is ridiculous, his life is ridiculous — across his face. "How rational am I supposed to be in this situation, huh?" he hisses. "I only have— what, like, five hours? I have five hours, Mattsun, and you're _wasting them,_ I need to go back, let me _go_—"

And he's turning, ready to storm back into that apartment, back to the living room where he's set up camp, back to the crumpled notes that he stopped being able to read hours ago. Back to last-minute cramming for an exam that's _stupidly_ heavy-weighed, that 60% of his grade really shouldn't depend on but hey, look at that, the education system's fucked as hell and Takahiro's strapped in for the ride. Oikawa was busy shouting at Iwaizumi, who characteristically suggested he try nap for a bit, in his own bedroom (in between tearful 'Iwa-chans' when one can only guess Iwaizumi was trying to kiss Oikawa better, the naive fool). That's when Mattsun swooped in and literally stole Takahiro out of the apartment and into the corridor. And it was funny, you know, it was funny for the first two point four seconds or so, but then reality set in because Takahiro has to fucking _study_ and Mattsun can't just pull him away like that because guess what, _he_ may be done with his exams but Takahiro has one in _five hours_and he's still got a third of the fucking syllabus to cram into his brain—

Mattsun grabs his wrist. "I don't think so."

"Mattsun, do you not get it!? I need to go back, I am going to fucking _fail—_!"

"No—"

"Let go of me, leave me alone, I'm going to fail!"

"You're not gonna fail—"

"That's easy for you to say!" Takahiro knows he's being a bit hysterical, and he knows Mattsun definitely doesn't deserve this, but there's a reason they call it hell week, demons and all. "You're sitting there with your whole final done, for fuck's sake, you have no idea what it's like—!"

"I know that." Mattsun is trying to placate him, Takahiro knows, but—

"No, you don't know!" he shouts. It's something like two in the morning and he's for sure disturbing some neighbours but Takahiro's entered that sort of limbo where absolutely nothing matters. A giant crane-lift could slam a hole into his living room and he wouldn't even blink. "You study God damn _art_, give me a break." He laughs hollowly. "You have absolutely no idea, because you're sitting there studying your painted daisies and _I'm_ the one who's fucking drowning in contract law cases and textbooks that make _no_ sense, a-and you have the nerve to— It's _bullshit_, man. It's... it's bullshit..."

"You don't mean that," Mattsun says quietly, frowning at him, and of course he's right, of course Takahiro doesn't mean a single word, because he knows how intense Mattsun's course can be, he's seen it firsthand.

Takahiro rubs a hand across his jaw again. He can feel the burning in his eyes that foretells irrational tears and he honestly doesn't need this right now. He turns for the door.

"I need to get back, I'm sorry, I'm gonna fail if I don't—"

"No, you're not," Mattsun says smoothly, opening the passenger door and for all intents and purposes _shoving_ Takahiro in before he can escape. "But you know what will end up happening if you keep this up tonight? You're gonna fall asleep in the exam tomorrow." He levels him with a sombre look. "And I'm not sitting here watching you do this to yourself."

His lips narrow into a thin line as he even goes so far as to do Takahiro's seatbelt. What is he, a mother? If Takahiro's brain wasn't so fried, he'd take a leaf out of Oikawa's book and start up with some teasing — _'Are you you my mother, Mattsun-chan?' _He curses his boyfriend out in his head as said perpetrator slides into the car and closes the door behind him.

Takahiro sniffs, turning to sullenly glare out the window as Mattsun slowly swerves them out of parking.

Honestly, Takahiro does actually love studying law. At the end of the day, he really does, that's no lie. He wouldn't have applied for it, wouldn't be going through with such a demanding course, such _bullshit_, otherwise. But it's hard to keep that at the forefront of his mind when he's getting caffeine tremors and breaking down into tears in the middle of every other study session at the library with Oikawa. They take turns consoling the other. It's kind of hilarious. In a thoroughly depressing sort of way.

"This is so unnecessary," Takahiro mutters eventually.

"This is an intervention." Mattsun flicks on the indicator as they cruise up to red traffic lights. "A state of emergency."

"You're a state of emergency," Takahiro sneers back. It's the best joke he can pull out of his ass at this point.

And the look he gets, half-pity, half-incredulity, says it all. He slumps back into his seat and resumes glowering at the dashboard. They drive like that for a while, in a comfortable — albeit, on Takahiro's part, also a tad murderous — silence. Tokyo isn't Sendai, and not even their hometown was deserted at night. It's not as busy as it is during the day, mostly because it's both college crunch season and most pedestrians have migrated to beds or bars. Still, it's busy enough that it takes them a good ten minutes or so before they're out of their general area.

"Where are we even going?" Takahiro asks when Mattsun drives them deeper into the city. He's aware that he's more subdued now, less hysterical. It's embarrassing thinking about how quickly and thoroughly he blew up at his boyfriend when Mattsun was clearly just trying to help him. The awful weight of guilt settles heavily in his stomach. _I even insulted his daisies. I love his daisies..._

Mattsun purses his lips, eyes focused ahead. "The way I see it, we have three options here." He glances over. "One, I give you a stress blowjob."

Takahiro laughs weakly despite himself, a little tension leaving his shoulders.

"Two," Mattsun continues, smiling hesitantly now that he can see his boyfriend isn't going to try gut him again, "we go for McDonalds. I'm talking Big Macs, chocolate fries, three milkshakes each. The works."

Takahiro hums in answer, leaning over and gently bumping his shoulder with Mattsun's. "And what's the third option?"

"Ah, the third option... It involves breaking into top-secret college headquarters, arson and maybe murder. But only if we gotta."

Mattsun keeps his face blank while he says this, which is what makes Takahiro crack up in the end. 

"Blowjobs, McDonalds, and murder," he says, heart swelling with fondness. "I love it. This is why I date you, Mattsun."

"Ah, but of course."

Takahiro nods sagely. "The truth unveiled: I'm here for the hell week 2ams."

"And here," Mattsun says lowly, "I thought it was my natural boyish charm that won you over. I've been lied to. Betrayed."

Takahiro shakes his head, lips pressed together. "Sorry to break your heart."

"So it wasn't the mind-blowing sex?" Mattsun offers, bumping Takahiro back as he turns them into a 24/7 shopping complex.

"Nope."

"My punderful personality."

He snorts. "Definitely not."

"Not even that time I beat Iwaizumi at arm-wrestling."

"You used underhanded tactics! I _know_ you told Oikawa to lick his neck." _I should have thought of that, damn it._

"Okay, but it's my champion status in Mario Kart then, isn't it. It is, right?"

"Iwaizumi beat you in the next game, you loser. Don't lie to me."

"He beats everyone," Mattsun defends. "He doesn't count."

_I agree wholeheartedly._ Takahiro still struggles to let his grudge from high school go, having finally reached the conclusion that their flatmate isn't entirely human — an explanation Oikawa Tooru, their fourth and coincidentally alien-obsessed flatmate, took to wholeheartedly.

There's a quiet pause before Mattsun offers his next suggestion in a deceptively innocent voice, thumping the steering wheel with a hand in his Eureka moment. "I got it. I've worked it out. Through science."

"Oh?"

"It's my bushy eyebrows."

Takahiro chokes on a laugh. "Y-You got me. It's the eyebrows. One look and I fell in love on the spot, swept me right off my feet. You know me too well."

"I knew it," Mattsun cheers over Takahiro's cackling. When Takahiro glances over, he wiggles them suggestively as if to prove a point. The former rolls his eyes and smiles. _Dork._

Mattsun has driven them to a round-the-clock McDonald's. Takahiro has been here a fair few times before, earlier in the semester when he actually had time to step foot outside his apartment if it wasn't to go to class, the library, or the morgue. (That was a joke. That was a...)

But he hasn't been here at night before, and while it's not utterly deserted, it looks completely different without teeming crowds and sunlight. The neon of the McDonald's sign casts distorted shadows through the wind shield of Mattsun's car, and Takahiro has to squint to see anything else against the contrast of the bright lights. The emptiness of the restaurant, the emptiness of the whole shopping complex, makes it feel like they aren't supposed to be there. And that sets off the toxic train of thought because of course they aren't, they're supposed to be at home where Makki can pore over more textbooks and cases, try to bully the information into his skull by force, where he should be taking turns with Oikawa at screwing up lecture notes into tiny wads of crumpled paper and stuffing them in their mouths. He has so much studying left to do. He has so much material he still needs to revise. His exam is in _five hours._

"Whatever you're thinking," Mattsun murmurs, cutting through Takahiro's whirling thoughts, "stop thinking it."

Takahiro looks over with a questioning expression. He can't quite bring himself to smile, so what he opts for instead is a shaky look of false bravado. Mattsun doesn't hesitate as he leans over and strokes the furrow between Takahiro's eyebrows.

"You look like the sky's about to fall on us. Stop."

Takahiro inhales shakily. "I'm fine."

Mattsun catches his eye for a second, expression unreadable, before turning forward and inching the car into the drive-through lane. He doesn't voice what's obvious. He doesn't have to; he knows Takahiro too well.

And Takahiro finds himself silently thinking this over as he watches Mattsun as he speaks to the intercom, slowly giving their order. He doesn't listen to what, trusting him to get something for the both of them. He just looks on as Mattsun repeats it patiently for the person on the other end, who's panicking over having missed it. When she asks him a third time, dread in her voice, to repeat it because she didn't catch it, Mattsun just laughs and goes ahead.

Mattsun's laugh is a quiet thing. He can be loud and boisterous — more so around their dynamic group of four than strangers, more at ease around relationships grown and cultivated than he is making first impressions — but Takahiro knows, only through the years of knowing him, of being his friend, that there's much more to him than that. Mattsun is most himself when people _aren't_ looking. He doesn't love to put on a show, not as much as Oikawa and, increasingly, Takahiro do.

He's quieter. He smiles to himself without realising, chuckles over silly things without pointing them out to others. Sometimes, Takahiro catches him talking to himself — talking to spoons and spatulas and vegetables — while he cooks. In real life, Mattsun doesn't put himself on show as much as people probably think he does. And the thing is, he's all the more himself for it. Peeling back layers, getting to know what makes him tick underneath what he deigns to show the world, slowly getting to learn the person that Matsukawa Issei is — it never gets old for Takahiro, because there's always more, there's always more to learn and see and fall in love with. There's always more of Issei for Takahiro to explore.

When Mattsun laughs to himself, bathed in neon light from a McDonald's sign, he does this sort of folding-in-on-himself thing where he hunches his shoulders and ducks his head down, screws his eyes shut just for a second. When he repeats the order for the girl on the other end of the intercom (now apologising profusely in-between), he does so slowly and patiently, a smile resting easily on the corners of his lips. Mattsun's voice is naturally low, but in moments like this when he's just having a one-on-one conversation, it gets huskier and drops without him even noticing. When he rolls up the window, having finally conveyed their order correctly, he does so with a quiet huff of amusement to himself, eyes low on the steering wheel. When he drives them forward, his fingers tap out the beat to some song he's probably replaying in his head, something Takahiro only knows because he's asked before why Mattsun absent-mindedly taps his fingers so often.

When he glances over at Takahiro to see the latter's eyes fixated on him with an uncanny focus, his eyes widen and his cheeks flush slightly. He throws him an open grin before returning his eyes to the front and driving the car forward.

Takahiro feels his breath catch in his throat.

_Gorgeous._

These are all the parts of Mattsun that he's learned. These are the parts of him only Takahiro sees, because he's had the privilege of peeling back all those layers that make him _him_. Only Takahiro knows the way Mattsun's voice drops when he's trying to comfort someone, the way he rubs soothing circles into skin without realising it. Only Takahiro knows Mattsun is in the habit of talking to vegetables and, as if by reflex, calls radishes Kindaichi-kun without a second thought. Only Takahiro knows how he looks with a high blush on his cheekbones, head thrown back on a pillow and eyes squeezed shut in pleasure — an entirely different sort of 2am.

Only Takahiro knows that Mattsun pulls you out of your apartment at two in the morning because he's worried about you, and only Mattsun knows that Takahiro needs nothing more than to _get out_, even if it's just to drive to McDonald's and gorge himself on junkfood. Only Takahiro knows how good Mattsun looks with the neon lights casting his face in stark light and shadow, his cheekbones prominent, his eyes shining blue as they focus on the road.

It's been something like six days since Takahiro got more than a couple hours of sleep at a time. He's running on four cups of coffee, countless radioactive energy drinks, and the raw power of hate and hysteria. His eyes sting. It's half two in the morning. They are sitting in a 24 hour McDonald's drive-through and Mattsun's wearing his checkered grandpa pyjamas and a paint-splattered hoodie. He's paying for an extortionate amount of burgers for just two people.

And Takahiro has never in his life been— never _thought_ he could be so head-over-heels heart-in-his-throat entirely, utterly in love.

He loves him. He so completely loves him. Holy _shit_, he fucking _loves_ him.

"Issei," Takahiro blurts.

"One second," Mattsun says distractedly, carefully taking change from the girl at the cashier. "Thank you—"

"Issei," Takahiro chokes out, "I'm really really in love with you."

Mattsun jumps, and some of the change slips through his fingers and falls to the road outside their car. Both he and the serving girl behind him turn around and give Takahiro a weird look, except she's half-amused half-bewildered and Mattsun's entirely taken-by-surprise adorably-confused pink-cheek pleased. "R-Right, Hiro," he says after a slight pause. "I— Yeah. You— I know you do. It's the same for me."

"No, you don't—" Takahiro shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut. They sting, wet at the corners. "You don't understand, I'm— Fuck, I love you so much." He opens his eyes, gaze boring into Mattsun's insistently. When he speaks again, he sounds worryingly choked up but you know what, for once that's fine, _whatever_. "Nobody else would drive me out in the middle of the night to buy me burgers. And you look so good even in shitty McDonald's neon light, honestly, how dare you — no offence," he mutters distractedly to the cashier girl ("A-Ah, none taken..."). "And you're so good to me and you're so cool and your art is so good, I'm sorry for that bullshit I said earlier, you paint awesomely, I love those stupid daisies you painted, they were awesome, I'm sorry."

"Uh... Th-Thank you," Mattsun says quickly, looking lost. But he's too early again because Takahiro's not done.

"Listen, okay, the point is you're the coolest, funniest, greatest, nicest—" Takahiro waves his hand in the air between them, trying to come up with more words that do justice to the overwhelming feeling blooming warm in his chest "—kindest, sweetest, _sexiest—_" Mattsun covers his mouth with his hand and the girl lets out a disbelieving giggle "—I just really— Listen, I really love you, okay, you're the best thing I have in my life, and I want you to know how grateful I am even though I've been a little shit to you all night and you're just... You're just sitting there taking care of me—... No questions asked, you didn't... Fuck, man..."

_I'm crying,_ the tiny sane part of Takahiro's mind that's survived hell week notes with confusion. _Why the hell am I crying?_

"I just want you to always be here, I never want to... I want this always." He gestures weakly between them. Mattsun's eyes are wide above the hand covering his face, ears red. "You're just... really cool, and I really... I like you a lot, I guess, shit, I really love you, I don't know. I appreciate everything you do for me. It's been like 56 hours since I slept, I'm sorry, I'm—" He rubs at his eyes with a rueful grin. "Issei, just— just marry me or some shit, alright? I don't know, I don't know. I'm having an emotional breakdown here. Give me my fucking burgers or something. I don't know. I love you. Thanks for being here for me. You're... the coolest... and I'm stupidly in love with you."

Takahiro settles back against his seat, covers his face, and laughs (and cries) while Mattsun takes their food and mumbles a quick thanks to the girl, who's hiding a grin behind her own hand and ushers them along with a wish for a good night. The second they've parked in one of the many open spaces, Mattun's out the car and opening the passenger door, crouching in front of Takahiro, gently coaxing his hands from his face, voice low and soft. But Takahiro's having none of it, and takes the opportunity to manhandle him into the car, force his back against his own seat and clamber into his lap with all the grace of a dying man. Takahiro curls into him, clinging to him, nosing at the hot skin where neck meets shoulder. The paper bag of food sits forgotten on the driver's seat. It doesn't even matter, nothing does, nothing at all except the man in Takahiro's arms.

Mattsun is shaking with hushed laughter, breathing into Takahiro's hair, "What are you doing, you ridiculous boy, what on earth are you doing," and reverently running his fingers along the ridge of Takahiro's cheekbones, the line of jaw.

And Takahiro is shaking his head, laughing along, cheeks damp with tears. "I don't know," he's saying between hiccups, "I have no idea, I'm overwhelmed, leave me alone, it's been a tough week, okay—"

And then suddenly, finally, Mattsun's kissing him. It's soft, and sweet, and gentle in only the way Mattsun knows how to be; strong enough to tilt Takahiro's chin up and yet so slow, holding him like he's something precious. The warmth in Takahiro's chest curls into a tight ball, beating hard and fast like a hummingbird.

"I love you too, you mess," Mattsun breathes against his lips before coming in again, ever softer, barely pushing back, the sweetest pressure Takahiro has ever tasted.

"I'm not a mess," he mumbles back, not bothering to pull away.

"You're a total mess."

"I'm—" He struggles to come up with something smart, mind still all a jumble. "Fine, but I'm _your_ mess."

"Mmm." Takahiro can feel Mattsun smiling. "Cheesy."

"You love it," says Takahiro breathlessly, and this time when he comes in for a kiss neither of them hold back. The steadying hands on his waist move to tangle in his hair, one sliding down the expanse of his throat and resting heavy on his chest. Mattsun tastes of coffee and mint chewing gum and heat. Takahiro can't get enough, he's gasping into his mouth and groaning low in his throat. Nothing could feel better at this moment than this, than neon light on his skin and the warmth of his lover holding him close. Nothing, because this is everything.

Mattsun's the one to break them apart in the end. He catches Takahiro's gaze, his own blue eyes lit up and on fire. "I do," he finally pants, voice uneven. "Irrevocably."

"Beep, sorry, try again. That word's on the list of words you aren't allowed to use at 3am."

He noses down Takahiro's neck, hot and steady in his arms. "This was not on the agenda when I dragged you out, Hiro. Ruining my plans."

Takahiro simply hums, eyes slipping closed as he relaxes into the embrace.

"You had an emotional breakdown in a McDonalds drive-through."

"Mmm."

"And proposed to me."

"Shhh."

"In a McDonalds drive-through, Hiro."

Takahiro huffs out a nervous laugh, keeping his eyes closed. "You love it," he repeats, nuzzling closer. Mattsun always smells so good, he doesn't get it, how can he _always_ smell this good?

Mattsun rubs comforting circles onto his back. "It's almost over, Takahiro. Last exam. You're almost done, and I promise you, when we're done Iwaizumi and I have the craziest week of freedom planned."

"...'s that so."

"Yeah. Totally crazy stuff, like _sleeping_, and eating actual food instead of freeze-dried crackers. And best part, there's no caffeine. It's a whole new world, sweet boyfriend of mine. Just you wait."

"Mmm..." Takahiro smirks into the warm skin of Mattsun's neck. "I don't know... Sounds fake to me."

"Oh, you'll love it. I can't wait to show you."

They both laugh under their breath.

"You're such a loser, Issei."

"Five minutes ago you thought I was so cool you were crying about it."

"Really? I don't recall."

"That's cool, I have it memorised." Mattsun clears this throat. "_Issei, you are the love of my life—_"

"I didn't say that," Takahiro bites out, pulling away and glaring, eyes accusatory. His cheeks are hot.

Mattsun grins crookedly. "You might as well have."

_He's got a point there._ Takahiro wrinkles his nose in distaste and nuzzles back into the crook of Mattsun's neck. "Jerk," he mutters.

"Your jerk, though," the traitor quips back. He kisses Takahiro's temple. "Right?"

"Unoriginal jerk." He ducks up and steals a quick kiss. "But yes. Mine."

There is nothing better, Takahiro reaffirms, than the taste of Matsukawa Issei's smile. Nothing in the whole wide world.

* * *

Fourteen hours, three tearful Oikawa Toorus, one zombie Hanamaki Takahiro, two cups of coffee, a broken-calculator scare (why do you need a calculator for a paper on financial law? don't fucking ask Takahiro, that's all we know), a three hour paper, and a two hour power nap directly following (re: passing out on Iwaizumi's bed and half-heartedly cuddling with his suffering-law-student-in-arms) later, Takahiro is free.

He wakes up to Mattsun gently shouldering him through their four-person apartment to his own bedroom. Even just sitting upright on the bed while Mattsun shuffles around the bedroom and then pulls off Takahiro's button-up for him is pushing it. Takahiro squints through bleary eyes as Mattsun unlaces and pulls of his shoes. When he's settled in under the covers, he barely has to paw at his boyfriend before Mattsun is kicking off his own slippers and sliding in beside him. His body warmth seeps into Takahiro and heats him up and down to his bones. The warm fondness curls in his chest, sweet and delicious; his hummingbird heart grows wings and soars.

Takahiro is disgustingly in love with this guy.

"Thanks for taking care of me, Issei."

"Go to sleep," Mattsun whispers back. "You're an overworked mess."

"Really..." Takahiro forces the mumbled words out, all but melting into the pillow. "Really love you..."

Mattsun's returning grin steals the breath Takahiro's breath away. "I know, you nerd. You already proposed to me, remember?"

Takahiro shakes his head sleepily, willing the embarrassment away. "I don't recall."

Mattsun clears his throat in a grand fashion and opens his mouth, but he's cut off when Takahiro silences him with a lazy, close-mouthed kiss.

"Don't you dare. That never happened."

The answering laugh, albeit silent, shakes the bed. But he dutifully nods, miming zipping his lips shout. "What never happened? I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about."

Takahiro lets out a pleased hum from deep in his chest, and nestles up against Mattsun's shoulder, sharing the warmth. When he takes a deep breath, the familiar scent soothes away any lingering tension.

"Don't worry, Takahiro," Mattsun suddenly murmurs. His arm wraps around Takahiro's waist and pulls him close. "I'll be here for the next law exam, and the next hell week, and the next midnight burgers after that. I'll be here. I'm not going anywhere. Even if you insult my daisies, which I _know_you love anyway," he snorts before resorting back to a soothing serious hum. "You don't need to worry about stuff like that. I'll be right here."

Takahiro smiles, small and soft. He leans up and presses his lips against Mattsun's jaw. "Good night, Issei."

_I know you will be. _

**Author's Note:**

> hell week war flashbacks [quietly screams into hand]
> 
> [prompt](https://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/13489.html?thread=4552113#cmt4552113)


End file.
